


Head Above Water

by molmcmahon



Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [11]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Unity, Canonical Character Death, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Relationship, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molmcmahon/pseuds/molmcmahon
Summary: Elise dies and Arno is lost.
Relationships: Arno Dorian/Harry Potter, Arno Dorian/Élise de la Serre
Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550224
Comments: 1
Kudos: 101





	Head Above Water

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own either HP or Assassin's Creed.

  
  


“Arno?”

Harry poked his head into the opening of the tunnel and conjured a witchlight, as he stepped around the debris. There was dirt and dust all over the stone ground and drops of blood created a trail, messy but followable as he walked deeper into the temple underneath the fort.

Bodies created a kind of path as well, bodies with the distinct mark of Arno’s hidden blade and Elise’s sword. Some had bullets in their heads but for most, it was the red smile on their necks that told Harry he was heading in the right direction.

“Arno!”

He came upon the door a mile into the tunnel, one that had been kicked aside carelessly, a few bodies thrown by it. And once he stepped through and took in the sight ahead of him, he paused. It looked like there had been a miniature earthquake. The stone pillars and earthen pillars that had been holding up the temple were mostly fallen and cracked.

Harry walked into the temple carefully, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, stepping over rocks and broken pieces of decorative stone. He stepped over one body that sat alone, a man that was cloaked and robed like a lord, like a French noble. He supposed that this man had escaped the guillotine’s notice or wasn’t even on the Revolutionaries radar.

There was a brooch on the dead man’s cloak, in the shape of a Templar cross. At least… Harry vaguely placed it as being a Templar cross. Arno hadn’t told him much about what kind of… hidden group he was a part of or about the group he was fighting. 

The man’s sword glittered and shone next to his body and Harry stepped around it, as power flickered in and out in the sword’s metal. He had never seen any blade like that and not even Gryffindor’s sword flickered like that. He wondered… Arno had said something about some prehistoric people that were thought to be gods. 

And finally… He stopped and sucked in a deep breath at the sight of Arno. The man was sitting just a few feet ahead of him, Elise cradled in his arms.

“Arno?”

The man didn’t move, didn’t even react to Harry’s presence. Harry took a step forward and then closed the distance, kneeling beside his friend. Harry peered over Arno’s shoulder and let out a sigh, his heart clenching as he looked Elise’s body over.

The woman wasn’t breathing at all. Her fiery red hair was blown every which way and bruises littered her body, and at least a few bones were sticking out on her legs. She was gone.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and turned to look at Arno, realizing that the man hadn’t even turned to face him yet. His friend’s hood was down and Arno’s hair had mostly fallen free of the tie that usually held it together. Flecks of dust and dirt had fallen into Arno’s loose, dark hair.

“Arno…”

Arno was still frozen beside him, cradling Elise’s body in his lap. Dirt covered his face and blood splattered his cloak and robes, his hood. He was taking in shallow breaths, strangled breaths that weren’t doing him any good. Tears fell down his cheeks, making lines through the dirt on Arno’s skin. 

Harry reached out a hand and cupped Arno’s cheek, turning him to face him. Arno’s dark blue eyes were red and watery, his cheeks pale, and he looked… lost. Arno stared at him unseeing, sucking in frantic breaths. Harry couldn’t see any visible injuries but that didn’t mean the other man wasn’t injured. He would have to look Arno over later but not now.

Harry winced and trailed his fingers down, to Arno’s shoulder and to his neck, curling around the back of his neck. Arno gasped and shuddered as Harry leaned his forehead against his, trembling in his hold and melted into him.

Harry wrapped his other arm around Arno and tightened his hold, staying quiet even as Arno broke down. Loud, strangled breaths filled the air and Harry flinched, as his own shirt grew wet with tears, and pressed a lingering kiss to Arno’s forehead.

He started to hum quietly, one of the tunes that he had heard from Hogwart’s school choir, and waited. It wasn’t good humming but Arno’s shoulders loosened and his breathing grew less shaky. Arno burrowed into him deeper as his breathing evened out, as the tears stopped.

“Arno, let’s get out of here,” Harry whispered,pulling back a little and looking into the man’s eyes. “There could still be soldiers about.”

Arno stared at him blankly and then finally dipped his head in a nod, slow, a little shaky. He started to stand, shaky and robotic, before bending down to…

“Let me pick her up,” Harry offered quietly. “You’re exhausted.”

“I…” Arno broke into loud coughs, shuddering as he stared down at Elise’s body. “She didn’t… I was too late.”

Harry spared a glance to the alien looking sword and summoned it to hand, tucking it into his pack. He bent down to pick Elise up, being careful with her even now, and propped Arno up with a shoulder and maybe a little magic. “Come on. Home.”

Arno let out a strangled noise but didn’t comment as Harry led him out of the temple and out of the tunnels. Harry called the witchlight back into himself as they stepped out into the night air. People around them didn’t even spare them a glance as they walked out of the temple and down the street, probably thinking that Elise was either unconscious or asleep.

Also… Harry could hear cannon fire far off and the sounds of guns firing not even a mile away. The French Revolution was in full swing, after King Louis lost his head at the guillotine a few months ago.

Arno swayed next to him as Harry led him back to the Cafe Theatre, where his apartment was. 

* * *

  
  


Arno watched blankly as Harry lowered Elise’s body down to a table in the corner, his stomach roiling and his fingers trembling. 

“Why?”

Harry looked over at him, where Arno was sitting on his bed, and walked over to his side. “Why what?”

“She didn’t… wait for me,” Arno murmured, hearing how dry his voice was. “We could have gone for him… together, like we always did.”

Harry pulled over a chair and sat down, facing him. His green eyes were narrowed in thought, echoes of grief in them that mirrored what Arno felt. Or at least some of what he felt. 

“Revenge,” Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders minutely. “Where do you want Elise to be… buried?” 

“She should be next to Messer De La Serre,” Arno whispered as he yawned. “Her father. In Versailles. I don’t even want to… think about it now.”

Harry nodded and turned around, catching a hold of a floating mug. Arno still stared at the casual use of Harry’s power and probably wouldn’t stop being surprised by it for a long time. The first time he had seen Harry using his… power, he hadn’t believed his eyes. Now… with the sword that Germain had used... “Here. Water. Arno, are you otherwise injured? Better to look you over now than in the morning. And no hiding anything.”

“No.”

Harry studied him for a moment before handing over the mug. “Water. Then sleep. I’ll handle the arrangements.”

Arno took it without hesitation and gulped it down, the cold water tasting like ash in his mouth. He shuffled further onto his bed, dropped his head onto his pillow and was asleep within moments. The light touch of fingers running through his hair and a blanket being pulled up over him followed him into unconsciousness.

  
  


* * *

Harry woke up in the late morning, around 11am, to an empty apartment. The Cafe underneath Arno’s apartment was already full of patrons who wanted to gossip and chat, to escape the outside world, but Arno himself was gone.

He sighed and got out of bed himself, fixed some light breakfast, and then got to work. He walked into his magically enhanced trunk and began to brew potions and made sure his plants were healthy and growing. 

By the time his alarm ticked off at 5pm, the crops on his trunk farm were ready to be harvested and the potions were ready to be sent off in the morning. There was a long list of people that Harry had promised them to and with the Revolution being what it was, bloody, awful and downright filthy, there were likely to be more people tomorrow who were in need.

It had been an accident, traveling back in time to the French Revolution. It was even more of an accident when Harry realised that he was the only wizard in this place and that it was an entirely separate world or universe.

He climbed up out of his trunk and walked down into the cafe theatre, with still no sign of Arno Dorian. His robes and cloak were still on his dresser, as well as his blades, bombs and other tools. Harry flinched at the sight, already beginning to get a hunch of where the man was and walked over to where the matron of the theatre was, asking her a few questions.

And with her answers, he knew where Arno was and walked out of the cafe theatre. He headed to the nearest tavern, avoiding the various French soldiers along the way, and stopped right outside of the tavern, hearing the sounds of a fight from outside.

Within minutes, the door opened with a loud thud and two burly, big men threw Arno out onto the street. Arno landed with a thump in the muddy cobblestone street, his arms flopping about like he wanted more wine. Arno was just in a light white tunic and hose, no weapon visible. No hidden blade at his wrist. Harry flinched at the sight, remembering first seeing Arno in Versailles, drunk and filthy. His heart thumped in his chest as he walked right over, wrapping his arms around Arno and scooped the man up.

Arno yelled out and thrashed against him, writhing in his arms. 

“Arno! It’s me,” Harry muttered, loosening his hold and thanking whatever god that Arno did not have a single blade on him. “It’s me.  _ Arno.” _

Arno let out a strangled noise and went limp. Harry swore under his breath, tried to breathe more shallowly as the stink of the tavern blew right into his nose, glanced around the street, and then apparated back to Arno’s apartment.

Little moans left Arno’s throat as they landed and Harry propped him up against a wall then left to fill up the bathtub. He kept the water luke warm with just a hint of coolness and let it fill to an appropriate level before picking up Arno and dumping him in.

Arno yelped, his eyes wide open now, as he glared up at Harry accusingly. His long brown hair was wet and glued to his scalp. His clothes now clung to his skin, wet and heavy.

“What’d you do that for?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yes. And now I’m not. Thank you for that.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the sarcasm and Arno glared at him. Perhaps it hadn’t been sarcasm at all though.

“You picked a fight while drunk.”

“That’s normal for a man like me, Harry. Now I have to go get more wine,” Arno muttered, struggling to move in the bathtub. He was like a new born foal, all gangly legs and arms and not succeeding at all.

Harry stared at him and groaned. “Arno.”

“Harry.”

“Elise is dead.”

Arno met his eyes and then looked away, propping himself on the edge of the tub. Tears pooled in his eyes and he angrily rubbed at them.

“I wasn’t fast enough.”

“You were stuck under debris.”

Arno stayed silent.

“This can’t be a replay of what you did after getting exiled from the French Brotherhood. This isn’t… you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. What you’ve done since I met you… You’ve helped a lot of people. How about this… I put you to work for the days to come and you’ll be too exhausted to go get drunk and pick fights. How does that sound?”

Arno blinked and stared at him, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I have to get all my harvested food and medicine delivered. You could help with that. And if you have to go kill someone on account of them being a Templar or just being a shitty person, tell me. I’ll be your backup.”

“Back… up?” Arno echoed, raising an eyebrow at the unfamiliar words. Harry grinned a little and his heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

“I’ll watch your back.”

Arno stared at him and pushed some of his hair back from his face. “Fine. It’s a deal. It’s not like the Marquis didn’t put me to work either. Or Napoleon.”

Harry blinked. “You met Napoleon?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”


End file.
